


Wandering The Stars

by aewgliriel



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-06 16:38:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13415310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aewgliriel/pseuds/aewgliriel
Summary: A collection of mostly-unrelated random drabbles and prompt fills from Tumblr.





	1. Be Prepared

(From [this post on Tumblr](https://rebelle-capitan.tumblr.com/post/164933564424/rebelle-capitan-thestarbirdfromtheashes).)

Jyn glanced over at Cassian as she packed, unpacked, and then repacked her bag. “Captain,” she began.

  
His dark eyes lifted to look at her, the man pausing in stuffing a ration bar into his parka’s pocket. “Yes?”

  
“I understand one jacket, maybe two. Three seems excessive.”

  
That got a flicker of a smile and she tried to ignore the tiny flutter in her stomach. He didn’t speak.

  
“But,” she continued, “I really have to ask…”

  
“What?”

  
“Why did you bring a flamethrower?”

  
That got the ghost of a grin. “I believe in being prepared.”

  
“What in the worlds do you expect to need that for on Jedha?”

Cassian shrugged. Then he hopped out of the U-Wing. Jyn stared after him, perplexed, and tried not to watch his butt as he started up the incline to scout the Holy City.


	2. I’ll Come Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebelcaptain prompt: first kiss happens right before getting separated while evacuating Hoth

The base was chaos. Jyn wasn’t really surprised that the Empire had found them; this was the fifth base they’d been on in the last three years, not including Yavin. She’d thought that maybe they’d have longer than a month on the ice planet, though.

She dashed down the winding, icy corridor to grab her bag, running into Cassian outside her tiny quarters as she stepped back out. Jyn was happy to see him, half afraid that he’d been outside when the attack started.

“Evacuation,” he said.

“I know. That’s what I’m doing. You?”

He gestured to the pack hanging from his shoulder. “Got everything.”

The ground beneath their feet gave a heave, and Jyn found herself slamming bodily into him, her momentum forcing him into the door.

“Ow,” he muttered.

“Sorry. The floor is made of ice. We should probably get to the hangar.”

“Right.”

He took her elbow; Jyn didn’t object, reflected that she never had in the three years she’d known him. Actually, she’d like his hands others places than her arm, but she’d never had the courage to initiate anything. She loved him to distraction, but the thought of trying and failing, or worse, trying and then losing him somehow, kept her firmly in the “friends and partners” area. It was safer.

And he’d never made a move, either, though he’d had plenty opportunity. So what did that say?

At a junction of snowy hallways, they ran into one of the other Intelligence officers, a newer one Jyn didn’t know well, since she worked exclusively with Cassian.

“Major Andor! General Draven is looking for you. He’s in Communications.”

“We’re supposed to be evacuating!” Cassian protested.

“He needs your help, sir.”

He and Jyn exchanged looks. “Get to the ship,” he said, and shrugged the pack off his shoulder, handing it to Jyn as the other soldier took off back towards Communications. “I’ll get Draven and meet you there.”

Her heart leapt into her throat. “Cassian, wait. I-”

“I’ll come back,” he said fervently.

And before she could register it, he’d yanked her into his arms and crushed his mouth against hers. Jyn had a precious four seconds of his lips on hers, and then he pulled away, leaving her dazed.

“I will come back,” he repeated, and then he was gone.

She wasted a few moments staring after him, gloves hand pressed to her mouth, then turned and ran for the hangar. A soldier she didn’t know grabbed her arm and yanked her aboard the nearest transport.

“Last one in!” he shouted, slamming the door shut. “Let’s go!”

“No! We can’t leave!” She tried to open the door, but was bodily dragged away from it. “We can’t leave! I’m supposed to meet Major Andor here!”

Grimly, the soldier said, “He’ll have to make the next one, then.”

The ship lurched as it left the hangar floor. Jyn wrenched out of the soldier’s grasp and threw herself at the door, pounding on the sealed metal.

“No! Cassian!”

She didn’t resist the second time, when she was forced into a seat and strapped down. As tears spilled down her cheeks, she thought that all of her hesitation had been a waste.

Gripping her kyber necklace tight, she prayed to the Force that he’d make it back to her.


	3. Come Back To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian, Draven, a somewhat disabled ship, and too much Bonding Time. Sequel to "I'll Be Back". Not the one I intended to write, but the one that happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a couple of lovely anons on Tumblr who donated to my car repair fund this week.

The ship had next to no weaponry. The shielding was low. They were, frankly, lucky that the life support system worked. The ship had been in repairs, Cassian wasn’t sure why; those were usually done on one of the big ships for the B-Wings.

Maybe the Force had willed it, as Chirrut would have said.

This was one of the fancy E modifications, too, with a gunner position directly behind the pilot, which was where Cassian had stowed his somewhat conscious passenger. Neither of them were equipped for this, though their Hoth gear was warmer than standard fatigues would have been.

“Give me the rendezvous coordinates again,” Cassian said, as he primed the navicomp, hoping that this thing’s hyperdrive was functional. The computer reported that it was, but the way their luck had been running, he wasn’t sure.

His passenger didn’t respond. Cassian shifted in his seat and reached as far as he could to jostle the other man’s shoulder.

“Coordinates, sir.”

No response.

“Davits!” he prompted loudly.

Draven finally stirred a little. “Andor.”

“Coordinates, sir. I want to make sure I put them in correctly.”

The older man recited them, pausing halfway through to take a pained breath. Then he said, “Should… have left me.”

“No, sir.”

“Write… you up… insub… ordination.”

Cassian’s smile was mirthless. “You live long enough, Draven, you can do just that.”

He finished the hyperspace calculations and they made the jump, the ship only shuddering a little. Having to hide in the snow-buried ship until the Empire had cleared out, the ice hiding their heat signatures, had cost Cassian more time than he’d have liked. He’d barely gotten the cockpit sealed when the ceiling of the hangar had collapsed.

Six hours in the cold and dark had done nothing to help his mood, the rattling of his commanding officer’s breath behind him for those hours making it seem like an eternity.

But they’d gotten out, the ship’s sublights blasting a big enough hole for them to escape through. They’d scared the life out of two stormtroopers, which had been the only bright part of things so far.

That and the memory of kissing Jyn.

“You were… never this… disobedient,” Draven wheezed, “before the… Erso girl.”

Cassian said nothing. He hated how obedient he had been to orders before he’d met Jyn. She’d changed him, broken him out of his training and the dark pit of despair he’d been wallowing all at once.

He still wasn’t sure exactly when he’d fallen in love with her, but if he died now, he was really going to regret hesitating on kissing her for three kriffing years.

Behind him, Draven was quiet save for his laboured breathing. They were eight hours from the rendezvous in hyperspace, longer if they didn’t get there in time and had to go to Haven directly. It helped having the second-in-command of Intelligence with him. Draven knew everything, or pretty damn close to it. Cassian was certain that the general had those coordinates, too.

The younger man settled into the pilot’s chair as well as he could, though it wasn’t created with a hell of a lot of comfort in mind. The ship had a hyperdrive but it wasn’t intended for long hauls, more emergency jumps. The frame dug into tender points, and the hours already spent in it had aggravated his old spinal injury from Scarif.

He was only twenty-nine. He was too young to feel this old.

Draven had been quiet so long, Cassian had thought he’d lost consciousness, until the older man suddenly said, “You could… do worse.”

Startled out of his doze, Cassian asked, “Sir?”

Draven snorted. “Erso. Good for you.”

“I don’t take your meaning,” Cassian said, stalling as his brain tried to track this.

“You obviously… love her, Andor. Seen it… since Scarif.” Draven shifted in his seat, probably trying to relieve pressure on the hastily-bandaged blaster wound to his side. “Thought… just surviving? Just you two. But not.”

He so didn’t want to have this conversation with Draven, of all people. It felt like the time his superior had given him, at twelve, The Talk. That had been excruciating. This felt no less awkward.

“She’s my friend,” Cassian said neutrally.

Another snort from Draven. “And Mon is just my fellow council member.”

Cassian’s mouth dropped open. “You and Mon Mothma?!” he blurted.

Draven let out a pained laugh. “You say that… like a teenager learning… his parents have sex.”

Cassian flushed a little. Then, feeling more than a little awkward, but wanting to say it in case Draven really didn’t make it, “My parents died before I was ten. You recruited me when I was sixteen. So… it sort of is.”

The general was silent for a long while, before he said, “I’ll take… that as a compliment, Andor. And… you should know… you’ve always been... my favourite.”

Favourite by choice or by default? Cassian had to wonder, though he was moved by the other man’s words. He was the only one left of the team Draven had put together when Cassian had first joined Draven’s rebel cell. Everyone else was dead. 

“You’re surprised,” Draven stated.

“A little,” Cassian admitted.

“You’re my … most … capable agent,” the general continued. “That’s why… I always let you… have such autonomy. Let you handle… Fracture. Recommended you… for Fulcrum. Tano … thought you … too young.”

“I know I should thank you,” Cassian began, then trailed off.

“It’s been hard. I know. Regret… a lot. Don’t … leave regrets. Tell Erso.”

“Really, sir, Jyn is a friend.”

That was met with a depressive snort. “You’ve been… many things, Andor. Idiot … never been one… of them.” Draven groaned a little, hissed a breath. “Getting shot … bloody hurts.”

“I could have told you that,” Cassian said wryly.

“How does... falling three stories... and breaking ribs feel?”

“Honestly, sir? Worse than getting shot. Combine them, though…”

Draven made a sound Cassian couldn’t put a name to, mostly just an exhalation of breath. “Lucky you… survived. You know… entire Clone Wars fiasco… and I never … was injured. And some… drone with a blaster… gets me.”

“You’ll be fine, sir. You’ve made it this far.”

“Mm. We’ll see.”

Silence reigned again for nearly an hour, until Cassian couldn’t stand his curiosity any longer and asked, “Really, though, sir? You and Mon?”

A huff of breath, then, softly, “Going on… seven years now. Never … told anyone.”

Ah. If Draven died, Cassian would be the one to tell the Chief of State, then, of this conversation. “I had no idea.”

“We kept it… that way. Not easy. She’s… very… independent. I do… a lot of… things to keep… her hands clean, you know. She has… damned foolish … ideals.”

“Like taking a list of grievances to the Senate?” Cassian asked wryly.

Draven snorted. “Broke her heart… realising that wouldn’t work. Could… have told her that. But… you don’t argue with… headstrong… women.”

Thinking of Jyn, Cassian replied, softly, “No, not really.”

Another lull in the conversation fell, and Cassian let his thoughts drift to Jyn, wondering if she was alright, if she’d made it to the rendezvous point. At least one of the transports has been lost, he knew that. Surely it couldn’t have been hers. If he found her, _when_  he found her…

“I don’t encourage… fraternising,” Draven murmured after a while, “but Erso’s kept … you alive and… better than you were. Marry her, Cassian.”

It was the first time in probably years that Draven had called him by his given name. Cassian shoved down a frisson of anxiety and said, “If she’ll have me.”

“Knew it,” Draven breathed, sounding satisfied.

When Draven soon after lost consciousness, there was nothing Cassian could do except pray to anything listening that they got help in time.

* * *

 

The first thing Cassian saw when they dropped out of hyperspace at the rendezvous point was the _Redemption_ , the Rebellion’s main medical frigate. He could have wept with relief. He couldn’t hail the fleet, but two X-Wings—looked like Antilles and Janson of Rogue Squadron—escorted the B-Wing to the main hangar of the hospital ship.

Cassian dragged himself out of the cockpit and got out of the way of the medical team so they could extract Draven. The amount of blood staining the man’s coat was alarming, dark red against the pale fabric.

Someone insisted he be checked out, too, so Cassian followed the hoverbed they’d put Draven on. He wanted to know how his CO was, but was equally torn in the other direction, eager to find out if Jyn was alright, where she was.

Aside from having pulled muscles in his back, getting Draven into the ship, Cassian was given a clean bill of health. Some anti-inflammatory medications and a pain reliever, plus instructions to drink plenty of water, and he was good to go.

Not that he went. He stayed put, near Draven’s restricted room, until _she_  showed up.

Not Jyn.

Mon Mothma.

He stood as she entered. They regarded each other: the pristine former Senator in regal white, the intelligence agent covered in her lover’s blood.

“He’s alive,” Cassian told her. “They think he’ll make it. Apparently, being near hypothermic slowed his heart enough that he didn’t bleed out. But that’s all I know.”

The older woman’s mouth compressed into a thin line. Now that he knew what he was looking for, Cassian saw more than concern for a wounded colleague. He saw the same fear he had whenever Jyn was injured.

Mon Mothma and Draven? Still so very, very strange.

“Thank you, Major Andor,” she said, and he gave a slight nod.

It wasn’t his place, with Draven still breathing, to acknowledge what he knew.

“Ma’am,” he began, then stopped. “Any news of Lieutenant Erso?”

The Chief of State’s smile was small, almost non-existent but there. “I believe she’s been informed of your arrival.”

The older woman went to go speak with one of the doctors. Cassian sank back into his seat, though his posterior was a bit numb from the hours in hyperspace. Knowing Jyn was alive was a huge relief. And he was so tired.

He leaned his head back against the wall. He’d been awake the entire trip, refusing to risk a nap while Draven was injured and they were so vulnerable. Cassian let his eyes slip shut-

-only to be jolted awake by running footsteps in the hallway outside and a nurse calling, “No running! Really, you can’t be in here-“

The door slid open and Jyn Erso burst in, wild-eyed and looking like she hadn’t slept since Hoth, either.

“Cassian!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “You made it!”

He rose stiffly, took three long strides, and hauled her into his arms. For several long moments, they just held each other, Jyn’s hands fisted in the back of his dirty jacket.

“I was so afraid,” she whispered.

“I said I’d come back to you,” he told her. “I always will.”

She raised her head without pulling back, their faces so close. “I should trust that by now.”

“You should.”

The nurse who had scolded her came in. “This is a restricted-”

She saw Cassian holding her and cut off off. “Apologies, Major Andor. But visitors are authorised personnel only.”

“I’m authorising it,” Mon Mothma said as she swept back in from the private room where Draven floated in a bacta tank.

One didn’t argue with the Chief of State. “Yes, ma’am.”

Jyn cleared her throat and stepped back as the nurse left. “How is he?”

“Injured,” Mon sighed. “But he’ll live, thanks to Major Andor. I’m promoting you to Lieutenant Colonel, Cassian. Davits is going to be out of commission for some time, and I need you in a leadership position. We lost a good number of our people on Hoth.”

Cassian nodded once. “Yes, ma’am.”

“But that can wait. You need rest. I’m ordering you to go get some. Return to _Home One_. Your assigned quarters are waiting there.”

Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Cassian nodded again and left, pulling Jyn with him. They made their way in silence to the transport shuttle that would take them to the Mon Cal flagship. It was on a run, though, so they had some time to sit and wait.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come back to me,” Jyn said after a while. “I tried to wait but they shoved me into a transport. I didn’t know anything for so long. No one knew anything, really. Then Mon Mothma’s assistant commed me to say you and Draven were here and I should come immediately. I thought you were hurt.”

He plucked at the long-dried, bloody shirt. “My back, a little. Scraped my knuckles getting him into the ship. But I’m alright.”

“I’m glad.” She hesitated. “After the way you left…”

Cassian reached over to take her hand. “Draven told me to marry you,” he said casually, though his heart was pounding. “On the way here.”

“I- What?”

“He said to live with no more regrets. I had a lot of time to think, in hyperspace. I don’t know if you feel the same, Jyn, but I know I regret not saying something sooner, and I’ll regret not saying it now.”

He shifted towards her on the bench. “It’s alright if you don’t. But I love you.”

She stared at him, mouth open, and he began to wonder if this was a huge mistake, if he shouldn’t have kissed her, should have just kept things the way they were.

“You’re an _idiot_ ,” she breathed, and then she was in his lap, mouth against his.

There were several others waiting for the transport, but they both ignored the whistles and hollers. Finally, Jyn pulled back for air and murmured, “I’ve been in love with you since Yavin, when you brought me a small army.”

The transport arrived, interrupting any further conversation. Cassian felt a little sheepish on realising just how much of an audience they’d had, but realised he didn’t care.

As they took their seats on the transport, sliding into two spots left open by a pair of grinning Pathfinders, Cassian gripped her hand in his. She loved him back. All this time wasted when they could have been together.

Jyn rested her chin on his shoulder. “That thing Draven said…”

“Let’s discuss that in private.”

“Okay. By the way,” she told him, leaning close to whisper in his ear, “you have shared quarters.”

He made a face. Except when absolutely necessary, he never had shared quarters. “You know who my bunkmate is?”

“Yeah. Me.”

He could definitely work with that. "Mind showing me to them?"

“Definitely, Colonel Andor. Oh, and welcome home.”


End file.
